


If I Had a Gun, If I Had a Knife, If I Had Your Love

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gallows Humor, Incest, Irony, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, is it possible to noncon yourself into nonconning others and other philosophical questions, more psychological drama than porn, thank you captain obvious tag I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-31 15:26:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18594076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: They brought 'That Fucking Smuggler' to him and Ren’s heart sank.





	If I Had a Gun, If I Had a Knife, If I Had Your Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kurage_hime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurage_hime/gifts).



They brought "That Fucking Smuggler" to him and Ren’s heart sank.

Although he supposed he should have predicted this. Who else could cause so much trouble to the First Order—to Snoke himself—if not the famous Han Solo? Who else could escape with the stolen cargo if not unc—the infamous Chewbacca?

The smuggler didn’t seem to know who hid behind the mask, fortunately. Small mercies. Ren didn’t know what he would do if Solo called him by _that_ name. If he called him anything at all. If he realised it was Ben who’d ordered him beaten before the interrogation.

In hindsight Ren shouldn’t have bothered. Ben knew everything about Solo’s resilience to torture. Even Vader hadn’t been able to break Solo, so what could be achieved by common stormtroopers?

 _I’ll finish what you started_. Indeed. Kylo tried to focus, calm himself down. He’d chosen his path. Solo was detrimental to it. Perhaps this was actually a test—a chance. The chance to prove that when Kylo’d spoken his oaths and pledges, he’d really meant them. The chance to finish one of the many things Vader had started, here and now. Punish the lowlife for daring to dilute Vader’s blood.

Solo looked at his face—at the mask, always the mask, Ren, not Ben, not anymore—and laughed.

‘What, afraid of dirtying yourself? Or is that costume, you know, a little too tight? Uncomfortable? Unable to raise your arms properly? Scratching yourself must be a nightmare—‘

Kylo kicked him in the stomach. The coughing and wheezing which followed didn’t bring him the usual satisfaction. Telling himself he was finally making his childhood dreams come true—proving _them_ wrong, hurting them, making them feel something, like species-typical humans not some holonet archetypes—just made Ben’s whining in his head louder.

 _I shall finish what you started_. Right. His grandfather's example showed him that torturing Solo would be a complete waste of time. Right. Time which could be used for the good of the Order. Right. He should have stopped thinking about finishing Vader’s work and actually got to it. Right.

Right. Right. Right. Ben’s voice was no longer a whine, but a storm, a storm not so different from Kylo’s own attacks of Dark Side fury. Kicking, screaming, destroying, wreaking utter havoc inside his mind. Staying his hand. Letting Solo recover. Always a blunder.

‘Like I said, not much arm mobility—‘

This time, Kylo punched him in the mouth. Without using the Force. Not hard enough to knock out any teeth.

 _Finish what you_... Wait. Vader hadn’t tried to kill Solo. He’d tortured him and tried preserving him in carbonite. They said it was because he’d wanted to try the safety of the procedure before using it on his treacherous son, on Luke Skywalker—but the fact remained. Vader could have killed Solo and he’d chosen not to. Killing Solo wouldn’t, therefore, be a continuation of Vader’s plans.

But just letting him go wouldn’t fit their spirit either. Not to mention Snoke might not... understand it, and it was hard to blame him for it, when Ben was constantly roaming through Kylo’s head, trying to lure him to the Light. Like the Light could do him any good. It would only put all his faults, weaknesses and sins right before the eyes of others.

What would grandfather have done, what would grandfather have wanted him to do now? Pledge his loyalty to the cause, obviously, but _how_ , if killing Solo was so obviously against Vader’s actions and presumed wishes, and torture, Kylo was willing to bet, would be just as useless as it had been all those years ago, as all those attempts Ben had made at hurting _his father_ , making him feel, making him notice, breaking that pattern of nonchalant shrugs—

—Ah-a. Solo was a proud man, in his own way. This had been the sorest spot of Vader’s torture for him, Ben remembered, that it hadn’t been _about him_ at all, that it’d all been about Skywalker. That he’d just been used as a test object. Objectification, then. Showing Solo how little he mattered in the grand scheme of things. So little he could actually be let go. Without much questioning, again, to rub it into his face.

And since torture had proven insufficient to break him last time, Ren planned to use something even more degrading. Something which should also snuff the Light out of him, forever, and please master Snoke enormously.

‘I can think—‘ He smiled under the mask; Ben had heard so many clichés and stupid jokes from his father, it was time for revenge. ‘—of a better use for your mouth.’

He grabbed Solo’s jaw before he could answer, pushed his still gloved (like Solo could recognise him without them! really, such nonsense, he just didn’t have the time to take them off) fingers into his mouth. Kylo could use the Force to lock Solo’s jaw open—planned to do so later—but he wanted to ram his way in physically, first. Feel, even through the gloves, the dry, rough skin with its stubble. Feel the blood and saliva. Scratch the tongue. Push his fingers deeper, deep enough for Solo to gag around his fingers, over his palm, the smuggler's throat clenching reflexively.

Kylo couldn’t let himself vomit. Couldn’t let himself feel the nausea, even. He called the feeling rising in his body, from the curled toes to the drying mouth, arousal. And it was, he realised—he could literally  _see_ Ben’s wide, frightened eyes— not a lie.

In his memories, the actual intercoursefuckingsexlove would remain blurred. He must have pushed his trousers down, obviously, although he didn’t remember when and how. He took his fingers out and held Solo’s jaw open with the Force. He threw his hips against Solo’s mouth, stilled for a moment. Stroked his cheek. Put his hand on Solo’s arm, to steady Solo, steady himself, anchor them both. Rutted himself against Solo’s face.

‘Just suck me off, smuggler,’ Kylo promised, his voice low, but not wavering, ‘Suck me off royally, and we’ll let you go.’

A muscle in Solo’s face twitched so hard Kylo felt it through the material of his costum—shirt. And then Solo closed his eyes, breathed deeply and _sucked_ , and Kylo’s hips started moving on their own.

(Like snakes, said Ben, like during those nights in the temple, when...

Shut up, thought Kylo.)

Ren thought later, later, when he could see the room clearly again, that he had been carried through the rest of _it_ by the sheer willpower. The Force, then. Proof that he’d chosen the right path. His grandfather helping him. The strength born from the Dark Side.

Or something. Something like that. He couldn’t quite think straight. He went and freed Solo from his bonds, though. Unlocked the door. They had, after all, made a deal.

‘Now is your chance, smuggler, and a pretty small one.’ The words sounded slurred. Perhaps something was wrong with the vocoder. ‘Take it and go. Oh, right.’ He laughed. ‘Sorry. You don’t like talking about the odds.’

Solo, already at the door, turned immediately, his eyes widening, fast, so fast, like new-born galaxies stretching into the void, and Kylo realised what a blunder he had made.

His father opened his mouth. Kylo tried not to see which letter it was forming, just threw the Force at him with all the power terror could give. Just please, please, don’t let him—do something with it—grandfather, Luke, Snoke, Force, _please_ —

—Solo’s mouth closed. He staggered. Leaned on the wall. Blinked a few times. His eyes were dim.

‘Did you... Did you say something?’

Kylo’s heart both sank and sang .

‘I’d advise you to stop eavesdropping, smuggler, and _go_.’ And _please_ never come back.

**Author's Note:**

> The title's stolen from Norah Jones.
> 
> Thanks to A. for helping me with this!


End file.
